


In the Company of Wolves

by orphan_account



Series: In the Company of Wolves [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Implied Incest, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-14
Updated: 2012-12-14
Packaged: 2017-11-21 02:39:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/592511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s nothing as clichéd as night and day, or black and white, or even fucking apples and oranges. They are different in a way that is also the same. Harmonious. Or if Jim is discordant, Richard is a note that complements; they make sense together. Not so much mirror images as two crucial parts of the same machine, moving like they were created to exist and shift in the same space.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Company of Wolves

The difference is there in the longer cut of his hair, the less expensive and less well-cared for clothing he wears, the length of his stride.

It’s there in the bend of his wrists. 

It’s even there in the small jangle of movement Sebastian catches in the corner of his eye when he’s across the room, the twitch of muscle as Richard turns the page in the book he’s reading, perched on the seat of the most uncomfortable armchair they own like he’s not sure he belongs there, making Seb’s nerves ring with the wrongness of it.

But the eyes. It’s in the eyes that the difference is the most striking. Churn of ocean-black around his pupils, deep and heavy and almost sad—direct and severe contrast to the clash of spark and oil, smoking brimstone, brink of explosion that are Jim’s. 

Not to say that Richard’s looked Sebastian in the eyes much. For the most part they’ve avoided each other in the week since he’d shown up at the door of the flat (breath scraping from Sebastian’s lungs as he does a double, triple-take, wonders if Jim’s drugged him for fun again). But whenever they’ve caught each other’s gaze Seb’s felt the bizarre disparity of it run up his spine, settling hard and tight in the muscles of his neck until one or the other of them looks away. 

It’s strange to see someone looking so fucking _similar_ and yet so foreign.

~

Sebastian keeps finding himself trying to unstick the tangled mystery of the two of them.

Can’t help hesitating briefly when he crosses through the sitting room on the second night and finds them on the couch together, the measured foot of space between them corrupted by Jim’s hand reaching over to splay heavy on Richard’s thigh (Seb knows Jim’s fingers will feel unnaturally cold even through the trouser fabric—wonders if Richard cares). 

Finds himself stopping in the midst of a bite of toast as Richard walks into the kitchen on the third morning, a wine-colored oval bruise at the bend of his neck (Seb was out late the previous night, had come home to Richard asleep in his place in the bed, Jim’s hand on his stomach). 

Watches with narrowed eyes as Richard leans across the table to murmur something Seb can’t hear against Jim’s ear, and stiffens when Jim catches him staring (Jim doesn’t bother to veil the smirk that says _oh, honey, don’t even bother trying_ ).

~

Seb’s never seen Jim look at anyone the way he looks at Richard. Hasn’t even seen half the looks Jim sends his twin’s way directed at himself. Not that it matters.

Seb wonders what other secrets lurk in the slow slide of Jim’s teeth against his lips as he smiles and runs his fingers over Richard’s scalp, proprietary and familiar; what else Seb’s missing out on even after three years living with the man. Knows he’ll never find out the half of it (but an identical twin, _Jesus fuck_ , boss). 

It’s all a bit much, but then again Seb’s always been quick at adapting. Has had to be, for his own survival. Especially with Jim.

~

It’s nothing as clichéd as night and day, or black and white, or even fucking apples and oranges. They are different in a way that is also the same. Harmonious. Or if Jim is discordant, Richard is a note that complements; they make sense together. Not so much mirror images as two crucial parts of the same machine, moving like they were created to exist and shift in the same space.

Seb wonders if he should feel threatened, but dismisses the thought almost immediately as irrelevant. Because Jim will always want more, not instead of. And if that’s not enough for Seb—

Well. Seb can’t think of a situation where it won’t be enough.

~

On the seventh day, Richard’s sitting cross-legged on the floor of the kitchen, sketching in a battered leather-bound notebook, while Seb looks over blueprints at the table, and it almost feels normal.

Jim stalks into the room, predatory roll in the languid movements of his spine, hands. When Sebastian looks up, he’s struck through with that brimstone gaze and then with the harsh shock of teeth in his lip as Jim leans down, and Seb’s groaning against him and standing, pushing him back against the wall, satisfying thud of body hitting plaster—Seb hesitates because Jim’s eyes are amused and heavy-lidded and he’s looking over Seb’s shoulder. 

He looks back, and the pulse of arousal in him doubles as his does his heartbeat, because for a moment as Richard’s watching them, his eyes are embers and ( _fuck_ ) that is Jim’s razor grin on his lips. It turns inward a second later, replaced by Richard’s tight lipped smile and almost demure head tilt, and Jim is purring a laugh into the hollow of Sebastian’s throat.

As Sebastian drags Jim toward the bedroom, throwing him into a wall or two along the way for good measure, his mind is filled with the twin flicker of flames.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Shayvaalski for helping to give Richard such a strong presence in my head in the first place.
> 
> Expect more from this verse!


End file.
